


And Yet It Moves

by liamthebastard



Category: Haikyuu!!
Genre: Alternate Universe - Canon Divergence, M/M, So many space metaphors, i guess, i mean it's my headcanon since we havent gotten that far in the anime or manga yet
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2015-08-20
Updated: 2015-08-20
Packaged: 2018-04-16 08:16:23
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,168
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/4618101
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/liamthebastard/pseuds/liamthebastard
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>
  <em>Oikawa is not the sun, he is not even the brightest star in the sky on his own. They are a binary system, Iwaizumi giving his light to Oikawa so observers only see the star setter and never his loyal ace.</em>
</p>
            </blockquote>





	And Yet It Moves

**Author's Note:**

> this is my first fic in forever oh god im so sorry but iwaoi has slowly absorbed my life and im just really feeling space lately so that's my excuse im sticking to it
> 
> also first person to get where my title came from wins love and affection

Ten years old and Oikawa Tooru is a nebula. Raw and unformed, potential incarnate, he throws himself into whatever strikes his fancy. His parents laugh and call him precocious, but Iwaizumi knows better. He feels energy crackle along the boy’s skin when he grabs Iwaizumi’s hand and tugs him outside to practice volleyball late into the evening. He sees clouds of dust, so much star stuff, trail behind Oikawa as he runs, sprints after the volleyball that Iwaizumi drops. He hears the roar of the stars each time Oikawa laughs or crows in victory. He feels the turn of the universe behind his eyes when the night is long and Oikawa sleeps beside him on the futon. 

Fifteen years old and Oikawa is collapsing, a searing core forming with a shining halo for all to see. People flock to his warmth, heedless of how hot he burns, ignorant of the toxicity in their skin even a brushing encounter can incur. But Iwaizumi knows. He understands the risks, but he too is white-hot in his passion, though he doesn’t shine as bright. He pushes when Oikawa pulls, curbs his off-kilter orbit with a gravity all his own. Oikawa is not the sun, he is not even the brightest star in the sky on his own. They are a binary system, Iwaizumi giving his light to Oikawa so observers only see the star setter and never his loyal ace. Those who know what to look for may spot Iwaizumi’s light, always nearby and nearly as bright, but the stronger Oikawa shines the harder it gets to pinpoint Iwaizumi’s glow.

But stars cannot shine forever. Without fuel they will burn out, and eventually collapse completely, sucking in all surrounding light and warping space around them. Iwaizumi fears that the injury will turn the bright-burning Oikawa into a black hole. He fears it will destroy Oikawa, and drag Iwaizumi in as well. He’s too close to escape the inevitable pull of gravity should a collapse occur, and wouldn’t want to if he could. Black holes are beautiful too, and there are worse ways to go.

Rather than burning out, however, the injury seems to stoke Oikawa’s flames even hotter, and Iwaizumi breathes a sigh of relief.

Twenty years old and Iwaizumi finally recognizes the meteors in Oikawa’s eyes. He finally senses the galaxies spinning under Oikawa’s skin, the light of the heavens in Oikawa’s smile. Twenty years and millennia old, Iwaizumi recognizes the answering glow in his chest, the sympathetic shimmer in his own eyes, and sees them for what they are. He feels the swirling gasses in his lungs, and sees the igniting sparks dancing on Oikawa’s lips. He feels the pull between them, orbits that have spiralled closer and closer until they are nearly indistinguishable. Iwaizumi recognizes all of this, but he thinks to himself, _no, not yet_. They are not ready to become that intertwined, Iwaizumi is reluctant to risk their hard-won balance. 

At twenty-five they are mature, full-bodied in their athleticism and Oikawa is brighter than ever. He is still racing forward, hurtling through space and time with Iwaizumi in tow. He pushes himself even harder at practice, burning hotter and brighter than Iwaizumi thought possible. They are part of a constellation now, stars shining around them from all over Japan, but still, Oikawa stands apart. He is brilliant, incandescent, and when they force a victory over Iran’s national team, he is _radiant_.

Everyone on the court is ecstatic, but Iwaizumi can’t see any of them. His entire being is, as always, enraptured by Oikawa. His teammates, who have learned to see past the obfuscation of Oikawa’s corona to spy Iwaizumi’s light, clap him on the back and congratulate each other, but Iwaizumi is still making his way to Oikawa’s side, drawn to him inexorably. When Oikawa turns, there are silver tears in his eyes, but his smile is luminous. Iwaizumi can’t tear his eyes away, even though he can feel the light searing his corneas, it’s the only explanation for the burning sensation building behind his eyes. 

Oikawa flings his arms around Iwaizumi’s waist, and on instinct Iwaizumi wraps his own arms around Oikawa’s shoulders, their victory knocking down any barriers they’d erected as they grew. Iwaizumi thinks surely someone must see how bright they shine together, how spectacularly they glow, but the rest of the court has their own celebrations and consolations to dole out. Oikawa leans back, starry-eyed and short-breathed, and he has never looked so beautiful. 

Without thought, Iwaizumi leans in and brushes their lips together, a stellar collision two lifetimes in the making. When Oikawa gasps it’s like solar winds, and Iwaizumi pulls away before they make more of a spectacle of themselves. 

Hours later, when the team celebrations and interviews have finished, it is dark outside. Iwaizumi and Oikawa, as tired and exhausted as they are, walk to the train station rather than call a cab. With each streetlight they pass, Iwaizumi is reminded of the scintillating man next to him. Each time their eyes meet Iwaizumi feels that pull again, gravity tugging him closer and closer to a star barely that much bigger than him. He almost doesn’t notice Oikawa reaching for him until their fingers brush and something akin to a supernova erupts in Iwaizumi’s chest. Oikawa twines their hands together, interstellar clouds wrapping around each other, and holds it tight until they reach their shared apartment. 

In the dim artificial light of their home it’s normally easy to forget how lovely Oikawa is, but tonight Iwaizumi finds he cannot stop seeing the silver-gold aureole surrounding the man. Even after showers and a change of clothes, Oikawa is as resplendent as ever, sprawled on the couch with his eyes shut, and Iwaizumi is hopelessly lost. For once, he doesn’t feel like Oikawa’s perfect counterpart, the second half of a binary system, instead he feels like a seafarer stranded, gazing desperately through the storm at the one bright light he can find, the one lodestar he would ever willingly follow. A grown man in alien pajamas should not make Iwaizumi feel so insignificant. Then Oikawa blinks, opening his eyes slowly, and smiles lazily at Iwaizumi. His eyes are bright as comets, but something in them, some small trace of uncertainty gives Iwaizumi strength. 

He crosses the room, and leans down, kissing Oikawa without a word. It isn’t a supernova, it isn’t the meshing of two stars, no, this time it is the same night sky they have seen their entire lives, no less beautiful for its daily occurrence. 

The stars seem stationary, but given time the careful observer can watch them change. Regardless of if Iwaizumi was paying attention, they have changed, grown closer and more intimate than he ever anticipated. He smiles into the kiss. This moment feels so still, so quiet, and yet it moves. 

“ _Hajime_ ,” Oikawa sighs, soft as starlight, when Iwaizumi pulls back for a breath of air. 

Iwaizumi smiles. “Tooru,” he acknowledges, and kisses him again.


End file.
